"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
Inside the high hall, every aisle, every exit, every corner!
Hundreds of House Frey soldiers drew the longswords from their waists at the same moment!
The shining blades reflected cold, bloodthirsty light under the flickering firelight.
Turning the entire hall into an iron cage bristling with fangs!
At the same time, the two heavy oak doors of the high hall were firmly locked!
"Clang!"
That loud crash completely cut off everyone's retreat, and simultaneously shattered the last shred of hope in the hearts of the House Tully members.
"Ah!"
A woman of House Tully let out a terrified scream, immediately muffled by the husband beside her.
Panic, like a plague, instantly spread among the House Tully seats.
"Walder Frey! You bastard who betrayed the gods!"
"I curse you!"
"Blackfish" Brynden Tully's eyes were splitting with rage.
He violently flipped the table in front of him and drew the longsword at his waist.
Goblets and plates shattered across the floor, making a grating sound.
However, just as he stood up, he felt a wave of dizziness, followed by intense cramping pain in his abdomen!
"Pfft—"
A mouthful of black blood gushed from his mouth, splattering onto the pristine tablecloth—a shocking sight!
"The wine... the wine is poisoned!?"
Brynden fell to one knee, supporting himself with his sword.
His weather-beaten face was etched with incredulous fury.
He looked at his nephew Edmure, and at the House Tully vassals who were also looking pained and collapsing to the ground one by one.
They had all drunk that cup of so-called "Wine of Reconciliation"!
"Lysa!"
Brynden used all his strength to lift his head.
His bloodshot eyes stared intently at the woman seated in the place of honor, whose face was full of malice and madness.
"You... you wicked woman!"
"Are you going to wipe out even your own kin?!"
Edmure Tully also fell to the ground.
His body convulsed violently from the poison, and his handsome face was contorted in pain.
He looked at the relative who had once flirted in his arms and whom he used to carry on his back while running in the gardens of Riverrun, his eyes filled with endless grief and despair.
He never imagined in his wildest dreams.
That blood ties and familial affection would be so vulnerable before the desire for power.
She actually wanted to destroy House Tully!
Lysa Arryn watched all this and let out a hysterical cackle.
"Haha... hahahaha!"
Her laughter echoed through the high hall, grating and mad.
"Kin?"
"The moment you chose to stand by that bastard, you ceased to be my kin!"
She pointed her finger, first at Brynden, then at Edmure, and finally landed it on Catelyn.
"All of you are my enemies!"
"Today, all of you will die right here!"
Walder Frey's rat-like face was also plastered with a smug smile.
He enjoyed the feeling of controlling the lives and deaths of others, and enjoyed watching these once high-and-mighty figures struggle in their death throes before him.
The Red Wedding?
No, this was Walder Frey's coronation!
From today onward, the entirety of The Riverlands will belong to House Frey!
"Do it!"
Walder Frey shrieked the command.
"Kill them! Leave no one alive!"
The House Frey soldiers raised their butcher knives, grinning maliciously as they closed in step by step on the helpless members of House Tully.
The shadow of death enveloped the entire high hall.
However, at this most desperate and tense moment.
"Clap. Clap. Clap."
A clear, rhythmic sound of applause suddenly rang out.
The sound wasn't loud, but it struck everyone's heart with the precision of a heavy hammer.
It instantly overpowered the death knell tune of "The Rains of Castamere," and also Lysa's mad laughter.
The music stopped, and the entire high hall fell into a deathly silence.
Everyone's gaze, whether they were the murderous Frey soldiers or the dying Tully vassals, instinctively followed the sound.
The one applauding was Ned Stark.
He still stood there quietly, his face devoid of any expression of pain, showing no signs of poisoning.
Catelyn beside him, as well as the eight Northern Guardsmen, also looked completely normal.
As if the bloody betrayal unfolding before them was merely a boring farce.
The face of "Ned Stark" even carried a hint of playful amusement.
He slowly stepped forward while continuing to clap.
"Splendid, truly splendid."
His voice sounded, still possessing Ned's deep and magnetic tone.
"I've lived for many years, and this is the first time I've witnessed such... foolish betrayal."
Lysa's laughter stopped abruptly, and the expression on her face instantly froze.
Walder Frey's smug smile also froze on his face.
"You... you all... why aren't you poisoned?!"
Lysa pointed at Ned, letting out an inhuman shriek.
That poison was a variant of the Tears of Lys, her final trump card!
Colorless, odorless, and instant death upon ingestion!
Even a dragon would surely die if it drank it!
But why?!
Why were Ned Stark and his family completely unharmed?!
"Poisoned?"
"Ned Stark" smiled.
The corners of his mouth curled into an arc full of mockery and disdain.
And his voice, at that moment, underwent a strange change.
It was no longer Ned's deep tone.
Instead, it became younger, clearer, and carried a hint of lazy magnetism.
"With just your petty, unpresentable trick?"
That voice!
That voice!!!
Why did Ned's voice change!
Who exactly is he?!
All the blood in Lysa Arryn's body seemed to freeze at that moment!
"W-who are you?!"
Lysa's voice trembled violently from extreme fear; she backed away step by step as if she had seen a ghost.
"Me?"
The smile on "Ned Stark's" face became brighter, and also colder.
He walked forward step by step, his composed gait like a leisurely stroll.
And with every step he took forward, the surrounding Frey soldiers holding sharp blades subconsciously took a step back.
An invisible fear radiated from the man, enveloping the entire hall.
"Haven't you always wished for my death, my dear... Lady Lysa?"
When the words "Lady Lysa" were spoken by him in a mocking tone, Lysa's mental defenses completely collapsed!
"No... impossible!"
"You are Lynn!"
"You were clearly at The Eyrie! How can you be here!"
Lynn smiled.
He raised his hand, and under the stares of everyone whose eyes were practically popping out, he grabbed the chin of his "face."
Then, he gently pulled!
"Slish—"
A soft sound.
That resolute and stern face belonging to Ned Stark was peeled off his face like a Painted Skin Mask!
Beneath the mask, a young, handsome face with a hint of wicked smile was revealed!
It was Lynn!
Time froze at this moment.
Space solidified at this moment.
The musicians no longer dared to play "The Rains of Castamere."
The entire high hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Walder Frey opened his mouth wide, his rat-like eyes filled with extreme horror and disbelief.
The wine cup in his hand fell to the ground with a "snap," shattering into pieces.
The House Frey soldiers were frozen in place, as if struck by a petrification spell.
The butcher knives in their hands felt thousands of pounds heavy, and they could no longer raise them.
Lynn smiled.
"I forgot to tell you."
"My dragon flies very fast."
Meanwhile, the members of House Tully, who had previously fallen into despair, now forgot the intense pain in their bodies, staring dumbfounded at the miraculous scene unfolding before them.
Ned Stark... was impersonated by Lynn?
Then... what about Lady Catelyn?
Just then, the "Catelyn" standing next to Lynn also raised her hand and similarly tore off the mask on her face.
What was revealed was a deathly face, cold as a statue.
But that wasn't all!
The eight "Northern Guardsmen" behind them also, in a perfectly synchronized motion, simultaneously ripped off their disguises!
"Ah—!!!"
"They are all fake!!!"
A scream of utmost terror finally broke the deathly silence.
A timid Frey soldier suffered a mental breakdown from the hellish sight before him.
He threw down his sword and turned to flee.
However, he had only run two steps.
A blue afterimage flashed past.
"Pfft!"
A fine head flew high into the air!
Driven by inertia, the headless corpse ran a few more steps before collapsing to the ground with a "thud."
The blood didn't even have time to spray out before it was frozen by the intense cold at the severed neck.
The attacker was a White Walker.
It slowly retracted the ice blade condensed out of thin air, its blue eyes showing no fluctuation.
As if it had merely crushed an annoying insect.
"Run?"
Lynn's voice, like a devil's sound from The Nine Hells, rang in the ears of every House Frey member.
"Did I give you permission to run?"
He looked around at the Frey soldiers whose legs were trembling so badly they couldn't even stand steady.
The smile on his face was that of a demon.
"Lord Walder Frey,"
Lynn's gaze finally settled on the old man who had collapsed limply into his chair.
"You just said... you were going to send the guests off?"
Lynn walked step by step toward the seat of honor.
The nine White Walkers behind him also stepped forward in synchronized paces, distributing the antidote to those who had been poisoned.
"Ser Brynden."
"To let you experience Lysa's malicious intentions firsthand, I had no choice but to resort to this tactic."
"You have suffered."
"This is a gift given to me by a friend named Jaqen before I departed."
"It's worth noting."
"This friend of mine knows how to concoct this poison you've ingested."
"But, he also knows how to concoct the antidote."
"And wouldn't you know it, the gift he gave me happened to be these antidotes."
"Alright, enough chatter. Now, it's my turn."
Lynn walked up to Walder Frey and looked down at him.
"I also want to send a few guests... on their way."
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